Doing Just Fine
by Shirohibiki
Summary: Spongebob, alone on a stormy night, pines for a relationship with Squidward, feeling the wear and tear of long-unrequited affections. His snail provides a shell to cry on. Implied Spongebob/Squidward. (Humanization AU, info on my tumblr under /spongebobau.)


_**A/N:** Humanization AU, info and images on my tumblr, Shirohibiki, under /spongebobau since links don't seem to work_

* * *

It had been a long day. A long, long day.

Slow and tired feet dragged up the stairs. The snail had been fed. The garbage taken out. The dishes washed. The clothes folded. It was alone time now.

Why, though? Why did it have to be _alone_ time? It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he spend his nights in someone's arms?

Probably because that ' _someone_ ' didn't seem to want the same thing.

* * *

Spongebob all but collapsed onto his bed in exhaustion after locking himself in his room. He wanted nothing more than to curl up by his neighbor's side and be held, have his back rubbed, and forehead kissed. He ached for him. He _needed_ him. Sure, he _could_ go over there and see if Squidward was sleeping and pretend to be his teddy bear or something… But he wouldn't get the kisses he wanted. He wouldn't get the backrubs. He'd be shoved away immediately upon being found out. Then he'd be yelled at. Then he'd be removed from the household. And then he'd be alone all over again.

It wasn't a crime if Squidward didn't feel that way for him. Not everyone would reciprocate your feelings, and that was okay. That said, though, it didn't mean it didn't _hurt._ Spongebob's heart was full to bursting with love for Squidward. He cared about him _so_ much, in every single way. He wanted nothing more than for Squidward to be as happy as he could be. He would do almost anything for him. He would want this whether he had romantic feelings or not – but, the problem with being so in love was that if your ardor wasn't returned, it was _so painful._ The burning desire to be with them, the longing for their affection, the hypersensitivity to all of their cute little quirks and mannerisms. He tried his hardest to ignore the ache, and was attempting to come to terms with the fact that maybe… This would never happen. Maybe it just… Wasn't meant to be. As long as he could be Squidward's friend, he was grateful, but getting over the heartache of unrequited adoration would be a harrowingly lengthy road. Spongebob had felt this way for a long time, and would for a long time to come – but he would have to slowly digest the fact that he was probably chasing a dream.

Spongebob valued Squidward as a person and wouldn't give him for the world. He would simply fall apart without him in his life in one way or another. If that way had to be just friends… So be it. He'd still do whatever he could to make him happy, he'd still love him all the same. That would never, ever change. He was the luckiest guy in the deep blue sea to have such a wonderful companion. Or, well… _Almost_ the luckiest guy, since they were 'friends' rather than ' _boy_ friends.'

He hated how selfish he was being but oh, it _hurt,_ it hurt it hurt it hurt… With a halfhearted sob, Spongebob curled up on his side and buried his face into his hands. " _Please_ … I need you…" He whispered, voice edged with tears. He probably had no reason to be lonesome – he had many fantastic friends. But… This was a different kind of loneliness – the romantical kind. Sandy had filled that spot for a little while, but that was years ago, and he now needed someone to pour that passion into fully and completely. To touch, to hug, to kiss, to do all of those magnificent things couples did. It was all pent up within him, dying to be unleashed.

Suddenly, Spongebob was very aware of the sound of rain. A storm, actually, as soft thunder could be heard in the distance above the heavy pounding of the droplets against the window. He peeked out through his fingers to see – it was so dark out. The rhythm was somewhat calming, but it wasn't helping all that much.

… Maybe he should open the door for Gary.

* * *

It was a wonder Spongebob managed to haul himself out of bed without entirely crashing onto the ground. The journey to the bedroom door was a real trip, but he managed to pry it open and call out weakly, "Gary?"

At first, there was no response, and it only seemed to depress him more – _great_ , he couldn't even have his snail's companionship. He slumped against the doorframe. "Garyyyy… Please…"

"Mow?" At 'please,' Spongebob's pet exited a room up the hall and slithered up to him, eyes full of curiosity, followed by concern. Yikes, he was a wreck! He'd seemed fine at dinner, if a little tired… Yet somehow in the span of time between dishwashing to now had managed to completely dishevel himself – complete with his hair sticking up every which way (moreso than usual), tie loosened, shirt partially unbuttoned, and one sock pushed down to his ankle.

"Oh, Gary…" Spongebob's lip wibbled. He bent down to pick up his snail and carried him over to the bed, where he laid them both down and coiled into him tightly, clinging on for dear life.

"Mrow..?" Gary's expression saddened as he snuggled close. This had happened surprisingly fast.

"Gare-bear… I love you… So much…" And now Spongebob's voice was wavering and catching in his throat. A steady stream of tears would soon begin – to match the rain, he supposed.

"Rowrrowr…" The snail began to purr in hopes that it would help his owner feel better. Gary had a hunch he knew what this was about. This wasn't the first time this had happened and it would certainly not be the last. It broke his heart to see Spongebob like this, but there wasn't much to be done about the situation. All he could really do was give comfort in his time of need.

The horrible throbbing in Spongebob's chest gnawed at every fiber of his being. Giving a choked sob, he pressed his face against the coolnesss of his pet's shell. "O-oh, Gary… He'll never—he—he—he'll never love me the way I love him..!"

"Mrowmow…"

"It—it is true! I-I know it, because—because–!" And that was it – he dissolved into anguished wails. Any louder and he'd be able to give the thunder outside a run for its money. Once again, the sorrow had swallowed him whole. It would proceed to chew him up and spit him out in a few days – until then, he'd remain in a funk so blatant others would notice and question it. It was the same every time. And just like always, he'd wave it off with some unconvincingly transparent excuse. They all knew the truth anyway…

All of them but Squidward, who also obviously didn't care. Which was okay. He was allowed to not care.

It was fine.

Everything was _fine_.

It was all really, really _super_ fine. Definitely okay. Absolutely. Positively. He was fine, right? _Splendid_! Never better. In fact, he was SO fine that he was going to… To…

The static in Spongebob's head grew too loud, drowning out most of his frantic, disjointed thoughts. He simply cried himself out for thirty whole minutes on and off, only letting go of Gary every so often to blow his nose with the nearby tissues. Eventually, he had no energy left, and fell asleep. Gary stayed with him the entire time.

* * *

When Spongebob awoke hours later, the rain outside was still beating against the house. Everything was blurry. His eyes hurt. His head hurt. _Everything_ hurt. He didn't know what to do with himself.

Perhaps he _should_ go over to Squidward's house and pretend to be his damn teddy bear.

"What good would it do?" He asked himself, his throat scratchy and his sinuses clogged to hell and back. "It'd only make me feel worse…"

It was his own fault though, wasn't it?

 _' **You** haven't confessed, Spongebob. **You** haven't really told him how you feel in a direct, unambiguous manner. You flirt, you give hints, and even if you think you're being obvious, it doesn't matter – **you** still haven't come out and said it. You're a **coward**. What if he doesn't actually realize it? What if he never picked up on the implications? What if he said yes the minute you told him? You won't know if you don't **speak your mind**.'_

"If he were interested too he would've shown it by now! Why should I risk the friendship!?" He argued with his brain, bringing his arms up over his head to hide. Gary, startled from his sleep, shot up with a yelp. He was left disoriented for but a moment before he returned to Spongebob's side. It looked like it was going to be a long night, too.

Yes, Squidward did appear to be entirely oblivious. It was better that way though, wasn't it? If he knew, there was a chance he'd just… Leave. Maybe he'd leave and never come back because it'd make him too uncomfortable to be around someone who he knew had a crush on him.

The mere thought was positively _petrifying_.

Spongebob was already lonely – losing Squidward entirely would destroy him. He couldn't – he just couldn't. Perhaps someday he'd gather the courage to say it – but for now, he would continue to keep quiet, and his heart would continue to beat like the saddest metronome.

Nausea washed over him. The torrential downpour had yet to let up. There was a bitter irony in the fact that something so _incredible_ could make you feel so _terrible_. Oh, _love._


End file.
